Vergil crouched silently.
The creatures' blood mixed with the earth formed a thick black mud that stuck to his boots. He looked at the ground beneath him with a clinical gaze, as if he were looking at an unfinished painting. He dipped his fingertips into the substance and rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger, feeling its viscosity, its temperature... and something else.
"Interesting..."
Zuri, still recovering on a lower branch, watched him suspiciously. Her scales were bristling, which was always a sign that her instincts were screaming for her to get away.
"What are you doing? You know this is disgusting, right? This isn't ritual ink, Vergil, this is dead animal slime. Warm slime."
"It's not just blood," he replied, ignoring his companion's explicit disgust. "There's magic here. Residue... almost like energy cords. Invisible threads."
Zuri uncoiled and carefully descended to a nearby rock, still keeping her distance from the bodies piled around her.
